A/N: An updated and improved version of this fic is available on Ao3 under the same title and pen name (not that this version is terrible)
FIVE MONTHS AGO
Something is wrong.
Everything is dark. Everything hurts.
"She's waking up," a feminine voice with an accent she doesn't recognize.
Too much light, it hurts her eyes but she fights to keep them open.
Step one: Assess your surroundings.
A black woman with long purple eyelashes, a man with a red nose, a horse with feathers on his head.
"What planet is this?"
"She must've hit her head really hard. Call the Doctor, hartjie."
Something cold on her chest. An Indian woman in white.
"Who are you?"
"I'm a doctor."
The room spins again.
"Do you remember your name?"
"Not the name of the circus, dear, your own name?"
He hates the feeling like no time has passed at all since the doctor asked him to count backwards.
"How are you feeling, Mr Hardy?"
There's a delay between his brain and his body. Bloody hell.
"There were some complications during the operation."
Heart stopped. Almost died. He already knows. It's not the first time.
"Can anyone take care of you for the next couple of weeks?"
Children screaming. Explosions. Bones, so many bones.
"No, I won't!"
"John, wake up, it's just a bad dream."
Sweat drenched bed sheets. An arm around his torso.
He barely recognizes the brunette next to him.
Home. Except it doesn't feel like it.
Husband. He's never felt more inadequate.
"Maybe you should take that job in Broadchurch."